


The 70th Games

by KaturaBayliss



Series: The Games Never End [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: #TheGamesNeverEnd, Action, Angst, Blackmail, Canon Compliant, Dystopian, F/M, Fanfiction, Gen, Headcanon, Loneliness, Mild Depicitons of Violence, Other, PTSD, Parkour, Pre-Hunger Games, Profanity-Free, Reality Pageant, Sarcasm, Science Fiction, fostercare, freerunning, the hunger games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaturaBayliss/pseuds/KaturaBayliss
Summary: |#1 IN PARKOUR on Wattpad|Akira Burke is used to being alone. She's always been alone, as long as she can remember. Abandoned as a baby and raised in a group home until age 13, she's used to taking care of herself and not relying on others. Or trusting them. It's easier that way.When she's Reaped as the female tribute from District 5, she's faced with being forced to trust. Trust her mentor, trust his advice, do what he says. Even when his advice is to fabricate a romance with the male tribute from District 4.It'll attract sponsors, he says. It will help keep you alive, he says.Akira would rather pull her own teeth than pretend to love a boy she's just met.Nevertheless, she follows Liam's advice.  And finds herself fighting a battle of another kind.Because once the Capitol has you in their grip, they never let you go.You never leave the Arena.The Games never end.





	1. Chaper 1: Akira

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a way of making fun of fanfiction after my sister read the notorious My Immortal, by Tara Gilesbie, but I eventually decided to turn it into a serious effort on Wattpad. Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. Any and all comments/feedback are/is appreciated.

**MOST KIDS MY AGE** would be sleeping right now, tucked away in their corner and snoring the night away. Most kids would be inside a house. But then again, I've never been most kids. You see, I'm neither asleep, nor inside a house. I'm very much awake and running across the roof of a house at three in the morning.  
   Old, weathered shingles under my feet, the clear night sky above me, I'm jumping from roof to roof with my bag of...unofficially borrowed merchandise. Then again, I suppose borrowing means that the original owner will get it back eventually. It's all in how you think about it, really.  
   Slowing from a run to a fast walk, I grab ahold of a tree branch and swing myself onto it, climbing towards the trunk of the tree and sliding to the hard-packed ground. Dusting myself off, I then stride down the dark alley towards the south of the Outage.  
   The Outage is a little power humor, power being District Five's main resource. It's the end of town where the people are a little meaner, the buildings a little more run down, and the food a bit lower quality. But hey, it's not terrible; probably better than most places in Eleven and Twelve.  
   "You shouldn't be out this late."  
   I slow and come to a stop as a dark shape pushes away from the wall to my right. The boy steps in front of me and looks me up and down. "Only trouble out this time of night."  
   I cross my arms. "Oh really, does that include yourself, Jael?"  
   He steps into the fading moonlight, a small smile on his lips. "It might."  
   I bounce on my toes. "You going to let me pass?"  
   He crosses his arms. "It'll cost you."  
   Supressing a groan, I ask, "How much?"  
   "Same as usual."  
   I roll my eyes and stare at the sky. "Fine, take your fee, thief."  
   He leans foward and plants a kiss on my lips. After a few moments I push him back.  
   "I've got to go, Jay. Mae checks on me at three-forty-five to make sure I'm sleeping like an angel."  
   He brushes my hair back and leans an arm against the wall behind me. "Then we've got thirty minutes."  
   I duck under his arm. "You wish."  
   Jael grins as I turn and head towards Mae's house.  
   "Love you too," he calls.  
   I roll my eyes and climb the oak tree up to my window. Climbing inside, I shut the window and stuff my bag under my bed before pulling the covers up to my neck. In ten minutes, the door opens a crack and Mae pokes her head in. I relax my muscles and take slow, deep breaths until the door closes. Then I sit up, fish my bag out, and dump my booty on my blanket. A hunk of bread, bead string, a couple of spoons, and random bits of broken glass are added to my inventory. I dump the glass in my mozaic-making box, hide the bread under my clothes, and stuff the beads and spoons under a loose board. Then, like a relatively good girl, I actually go to sleep.  
   I'm awoken by sunlight hitting me in the face. Throwing the covers off of me, I jup out off bed and put on my shoes. Then I head downstairs, where I scrounge up a meager breakfast. Mae and her husband receive a monthly stipend for keeping me, but most of that-and the rest of their money-goes to liquor for her husband. Though I have seen Old Mae herself with a bottle from time to time. The old man doesn't bother me though. He used to, but one time, when I was thirteen, he came after me while drunk and I hit him with a chair. Knocked him out cold. He hasn't bothered me since.  
   Grabbing my bookbag, I head to school, which is long and uneventful. At lunch, we're all allowed to go out into the courtyard to eat whatever we brought. Our lunch shift begins just as the grade above us finishes. Walking into the courtyard, I see Jael talking to a girl, arm braced against the wall behind her. His gaze drifts to me and he stops talking. I turn my attention to the stainless steel table in the far corner and deposit my bookbag onto the bench beside me. Pulling out the chunk of bread from last night's salvage run, I start picking it to pieces.  
   "Hey, Akira." Jael sits on the edge of my table, flashing a charming smile.  
   I take a bite of bread and chew slowly. "What do you want, Jay?"  
   He grins lopsidedly. "So defensive. What if I just wanted to talk?"  
   I glance back at the girl he left, Ashley, who's scowling in our direction.  
   "Then I think your girlfriend might object to that."  
   He scoffs. "Girlfriend? She wishes."  
   I finish the bread and cross my arms, looking up at him. "You just think every girl wants a piece of you, don't you?"  
   The bell rings, anouncing the end of his lunch shift.  
   Jael leans closer, raising an eyebrow. "Are you saying they don't?"  
   I glance towards the door. "Well I, for one, do not."  
   He stares at me, golden green eyes unblinking. "Is that so?"  
   I stare back. "Jay, the bell."  
   Finally, he looks away with a smile and hops off the table gracefully.  
   "Come join us tonight, we could teach you some new tricks."  
   I bite my lip. He wants me at the Tracers' meeting tonight?  
   As he walks away, he calls over his shoulder, "See you at the Cache."  
   I ignore him and his minor flirtations. He's like that with every female between the ages of 12 and 20. We've known each other since we were kids, little kids. I used think he and his friends were amazing, the way they could jump from building to building almost effortlessly, moving gracefully through the air. Watching them is what sparked my interest in Parkour. I started following them sometimes, then replicating their stunts.  
   Maybe I will join them.


	2. Chapter 2: The Tracers

   **AFTER SCHOOL, I RUSH** to Mae's house and put my bag away. Then, I pull on my jacket and head to the Cache.  
   The Cache is a really an old, abandoned warehouse. It's where Jay and the Tracers hang out, sort of their headquarters. I'm not sure how it got it's name, but that's what they started calling it and it kind of stuck.  
   Once I get within a couple blocks of it, I can see the entrance is guarded. Rolling my eyes, I march up to the two guarding the door. One of them is in my class at school. He narrows his eyes at me, trying to decide where he's seen me before  
   "State your name and business," he orders.  
   I sigh inwardly and straighten, hoping I look compliant.  
   "Akira Burke. Jay invited me."  
   The female guard snorts. "Yeah. And how do we know you're not a Freerunner spy?"  
   I sigh, outwardly this time.  
   "Are you going to let me through?"  
   The guy looked at the girl. "Go ask Jael."  
   She huffs and disappears through the door. I cross my arms and shift my weight to one hip, staring the guy down. He glances at me nervously from time to time, chewing on his lip. Finally, the door opens and the girl sticks her head out.  
   "He says to let her through," she mutters, obviously not pleased with the idea. The boy steps aside, opening the door. I walk past him and into the warehouse, taking in the view.  
   The Cache is an old, ten-story building with a hole in the center through all ten floors. It's a maze of crumbling concrete, metal poles, and rusting, metal staircases.  
   In other words, a Tracer's dream.  
   I hear voices ahead and search for the source, but find nothing. Then I realize that directly under the giant hole is the crater caused by the mortar shell that ripped the hole through the warehouse. And inside the crater are the Tracers.  
   If it were anyone else, I would be concerned about calling a rescue team to get them out of such a deep hole. But as I watch, I see Jay sprint for the side and run up the curved wall, grabbing onto the edge and pulling himself up in a matter of seconds. He dusts his hands off and holds one out.  
   "Glad you could make it."  
   I shake his hand. "Thanks. Though I'm not sure why you invited me."  
   He shrugs. "Just thought you might want to come run with us for the afternoon. Maybe see if you wanted to join."  
   Surprise ripples through me.  
   "Join? As in become a member of the Tracers?"  
   He nods. "If you've got what it takes. And if everyone agrees."  
   I cross my arms. "And what does it take?"  
   He smiles and turns back to the crater.  
   "You learn by observing. Come and observe."  
   I watch Jay as he disappears over the side, then back up a few steps.  
   Might as well make a decent entrance.  
   Allowing my momentum to carry me forwards, I plant my right foot on the edge, putting my weight on my toes. Leaning into the fall, I do a barani flip off of the edge, tucking my knees in and flipping twice before landing at the bottom. Straightening, I look up to see the Tracers watching me. Some nod their approval, others just stare.  
   Jay claps me on the back.  
   "Guys this is Akira. She's going to run with us tonight."  
   I step forwards. "Hello."  
   A few of them nod, some murmur a greeting, but everyone acknowledges me somehow. I feel odd, being the center of everyone's attention.  
   I don't like being noticed. Being noticed means getting caught, being the one who gets kicked at when Mae's husband is drunk. It's better to be hidden; slipping through the shadows without anyone paying attention.  
   But, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that, if you get noticed, looking like you're supposed to be there helps. So I hold my head high, making eye contact with everyone who stares at me.  
   "So, what's the plan?" I ask, turning to Jael.  
   He crosses his arms. "Tonight, we run the trains."  
   I raise an eyebrow in question. Jael simply gives me his signature look; a self-confident smirk.  
   "Let's get going."  
   The Tracers move as one, a mass of human limbs rushing up the side of the crater, pulling themselves up and over. Jay backhands my arm.  
   "Stay close."  
   I nod and follow him up the side. Once on ground level, I see that we aren't going out the front door. Or any door at all.  
   The Tracers are climbing up through the hole in the warehouse. Well, climbing wouldn't be the right word. They spring from handhold to handhold, flying upwards so quickly it's hard to keep track.  
   My heart drops.  
   "Try and keep up," Jael says, before launching himself at the wall.  
   How am I going to keep up with that?  
   Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath to steady myself. When I open them, I set off at a sprint. Launching myself into the air, I grab ahold of a ben metal pole and pull myself up onto the second story, my shoes gaining purchase on the old concrete. Using the momentum from my jump, I spring up and latch onto the edge of the third floor. Kicking hard, I land on my knees, then roll over and jump to my feet.  
   Seven more to go.  
   I blow out a breath. There has to be another way to do this.  
   Then, my gaze lands on the fire escape and I don't even think about it, I just run.  
   Grabbing onto the solid, lovely metal, I pull myself up, climbing the side of the frame rather than taking the stairs. The old contraption creaks under my weight, but I'm hardly in one spot long enough for it to make much noise. Using my hands and feet to climb, I pass one floor, then another in under fifteen seconds.  
   This is Parkour; Adapting to your surroundings and finding a new way through, over, or around an obstacle. It's more than an activity; it's a lifestyle.  
   Finally, out of breath and my arms aching, I reach the top. With one final pull, I land on the roof at the same time as most of the others. I take a moment to catch my breath as Jay reaches the roof.  
   He gives me an approving look then turns as the rest of the gang begin vaulting off the warehouse and onto neighboring roofs.  
   With a smile, I follow them, hurtling over the cracked, dirty streets as I move over the crumbling buildings of Southside.  
   This, is what it is to be a Tracer.

 


	3. Chapter 3: The Night Before

 

   **"WHEN THE TRAIN SLOWS** to take the curve, that's when we jump."  
   I nod at Jay's orders, more focused on catching my breath.  
   We-all two-dozen or so of us-are perched on what used to be a bridge, twenty feet over the train tracks. We're smack dab in the center of Southside, in the area just beyond the industrial section. Here, there are no broken down buildings left to waste. But it's still Southside, everything is still old and poor quality, not to mention dirty.  
   "It's coming!" someone says to my right.  
   I close my eyes and listen. Sure enough, I can hear the rumble of the approaching train. It sends tiny slivers of fear through me.  
   I've never jumped onto a moving train. What if I miss? What if I fall off and end up chewed to pieces under the screaming, sparking wheels?  
   Swallowing har, I grit my teeth.  
   _You can't chicken out now, Akira._  
   Jay leans forward to whisper in my ear as the train approaches.  
   "Don't think about it, just jump."  
   I nod, not trusting my voice. The train is louder now, its horn blasting down the street, causing the bridge to shake under us.  
   Then, we see it, coming around the curve, slowing those precious few miles per hour that will lessen our chances of being killed.  
   Those around me stand to their feet as the train nears. I follow suit, wiping my sweaty palms off on my pants.  
   With a rush of air, the train flows by under our feet and people begin diving off. I watch them, studying how they jump, how they land.  
   Stepping to the edge, I push off.  
   Wind rushes around me for seconds that take forever. Time seems to slow as I hurtle towards the train. Then, my feet connect with the metal roof and time speeds up again. I'm sliding, rolling, skidding. My heart leaps to my throat as I roll to the edge of the train. I throw my arms out, grabbing onto a groove in the roof.  
   I stop rolling.  
   All I can do for the longest time is hold on and breath.  
   In. Out. In. Out.  
   _I'm alive._  
   Letting go with my left hand, I push myself up and look around, spotting Jay only a few feet away. He gives me his signature smile and an approving look.  
   "Good job," he shouts as the train picks up speed. "For your first time."  
   He sits up and scoots/crawls to my side.  
   "Where does this go?" I ask, pointing to the train under us.  
   He points North. "Straight through the middle of Northside; all the way to the edge of the district-which is where we get off." He smirks. "Don't want the Peacekeepers thinking we're trying to sneak out of the district, do we?"  
   I frown, thinking.  
   "How do we get back?"  
   Jay's smirk grows in self-confidence. "You'll see. Don't worry. We do this every year." He gets up, standing and heading for the next car.  
   "Every year? What do you mean?" I call after him.  
   He turns back, his shirt whipping in the wind, and gives me a two-finger salute before jumping to the next car. Annoyed, I scowl and turn to face the setting sun, letting it warm my skin with its golden rays. Closing my eyes, I feel the wind curl around me, toying with my hair and chilling my skin.  
   "Tunnel!" someone shouts.  
   I open my eyes and look ahead, seeing the tunnel in the distance. The kids ahead of me lie on their stomachs, flattening themselves against the train. I follow suit, rolling over and lying against the cool metal as the tunnel draws closer. Holding my breath, I have just enough time to hope I won't scrape the ceiling of the tunnel before being engulfed in darkness.  
   Laughter and over-joyed whoops break out in the darkness and, despite myself, I join in.  
   "How're you doing back there, newbie?" someone calls out.  
   I smile in the darkness.  
   "I'm great. You?"  
   More laughter breaks out and I recognize Jael's voice when he says, "Good work. Now hold on."  
   Light filters through the darkness ahead, becoming brighter and brighter until I'm out in the open air. Sitting up, I stare at the city lights around me in awe.  
   "Welcome to Northside."  
   I look over at Jay, who's managed to work his way back over to me, then back at the city. It's nothing compared to the shots I've seen of the Capitol, but still beautiful to me-someone not only from Southside, but from the Outage.  
   "Just don't look down," Jay says.  
   And of course, I do.  
   My breath catches in my throat as I realize that we're at least two stories above stree level, flying over the smaller buildings. Jay snickers at my expression and I quickly arrange my features into neutrality. Ignoring him, i turn my gaze back to the darkening sky, finding a star.  
   Jay leans back on his elbows, ever confident, ever full of himself.  
   "You ever think of what it'd be like to live in Northside?" he says, suddenly turning serious.  
   I frown, pursing my lips. "What Souther doesn't? I mean...electricity that always works, clean streets, not having to worry about gang violence..." I trail off.  
   Not having your name entered 34 times.  
   34 entries. That's how many I have. 25 from my last year spent at the group home, where you have to take out tesserae for every kid currently staying there, as well as the caretakers. Group home kids get picked nearly every year.  
   "How many entries do you have?" I ask Jay.  
   His expression darkens. "One hundred seven."  
   I fall silent. One hundred seven makes my thirty-four pale in comparison. But that's normal for a kid from one of the state-run homes.  
   "But," Jay says quickly, "tonight we don't think about that. That's for tomorrow. "Tonight," he gestures to the city, mostly behind us now, "we are free."  
   I nod, forcing a small smile. "So, when do we jump off?"  
   Jay smiles and runs a hand over his unruly curls. "When we get to the edge of the district."  
   I sit up straighter, hoping I hear him wrong  
   "The edge of the district?" I demand over the wind. "How will we get back?"  
   Jay smirks. "You'll see in a few minutes." When I give him a sour look, he asks, "What? Worried about Old Mae?"  
   I choose not to answer, instead, turning to watch the cuty melt away, morphing into open fields. The truth is, Mae and her husband only keep me to get my tesserae. But should I become too much trouble, they might send me back to the group home, where my tesserae would be increased by 20-40 each year.  
   Yes, Old Mae is sour and moody, and her husband a violent drunk; but living with them is still better than living in the group home.  
   Silence falls between Jay and I as we stare up at the night sky. We've never been what you could call friends-I've always been more of a loner-but we grew up together. Ever since I could remember, Jay and his little sister were in the group hom. He and I were some of the ones who stayed throughout the years when others were adopted, transferred, or sometimes, died. But Jay and his sister were always there.  
   "Get ready," Jay says. "We're nearing the checkpoint. Right before the train reaches the check point, there's a bend in the tracks and the train has to slow, almost stop."  
   I nod, hoping I appear more confident than I am. The Tracers aren't the biggest gang in Southside, but they aren't to be taken lightly either. If I were to get in, to be accepted as a part of their group, then, well...I guess I would finally have something like a family.  
   The train's brakes squeal, slowing the contraption considerably.  
   "Follow me!" Jael shouts over the noise. He moves to the side of the car and throws his legs over the side, bracing his feet against the traincar while holding onto the roof.  
   Carefully, I make my way down the car, latching onto a spot beside him.  
   The train is moving slowly now, maybe only 30-35 mph.  
   "One...two...three. Jump!"  
   Jay pushes off and goes tumbling into the grass.  
   Taking a deep breath, i jump.  
   The impact with the ground knocks the wind from me, slamming into my back and sending me rolling the tall grass. Gasping for air, I try to sit up, managing to do so on the second attempt. I cough, trying to get my lungs working again.  
   A hand appears in front of me and I grasp it. Jay pulls me to my feet, clapping me on the back.  
   "You'll get used to it."  
   I start to reply but he's already moved on, touching another kid on the shoulder and saying something. The kid nods and replies loudly enough for me to hear.  
   "It's the Capitol-they're always on time."  
   I perk up, forgetting my concerns about our return ride, and look to Jay.  
   "The Capitol?"  
   Someone bumps into my side.  
   "We do this every year: Ride the freight train to the edge of the district, then ride the Capitol train back."  
   I stare at the girl, not even bothering to cover my surprise. "The Tribute's Train?"  
   She shakes her head and laughs. "No, this one belongs to the Advance Team that comes to set stuff up and, well, whatever it is they do before sending us off to be killed." She flips her hair. "It's not as fast, but still a cool ride."  
   "Here it comes!"  
   The girl smirks. "Get ready, when it comes through the gate, we hop on."  
   I nod as she trots away, then go and search for Jay. He spots me and waves me forward.  
   "This is a bit trickier," he says, nodding towards the approaching train. "Stay with me."  
   He crouches in the grass and I follow suit, kneeling beside him.  
   "There are handles on the Capitol trains, " he explains hurriedly. "Just grab on and pull yourself up."  
   I bite my lip. "Got it."  
   It's actually much easier than Jay presented it to be, getting onto the Capitol train. I even manage to get onto the roof of the metal beast before Jay-something that obviously causes him a bit of chagrin.  
   As we head back into the city, I lie on my back and stare up at the stars. Tomorrow is the Reaping, the day that reminds us we belong to the Capitol. But tonight, I belong to myself.  
   Tonight, I am free.

 


	4. Chapter 4: The Reaping

**THE MORNING OF THE** Reaping dawns bright and clear, with hardly a cloud to be seen. Mother Nature apparently takes no notice of our plight.  
   I dress myself in my best-a faded, mint-green dress with a high waistline and a sash that ties behind my back. It's old, and barely fits anymore, but it's the fanciest outfit I own.  
   Standing in front of the mirror in the hall, I try to decide what to do with my red mane of hair. It really doesn't look that bad down, just a bit unruly. After brushing through the red strands, I part my hair on the left and twist the front strands back, pinning them to keep my face clear.  
   Heading downstairs, I notice the smell of food coming from the kitchen, where Mae is cooking the evening meal. My mouth waters at the idea of fresh food.  
   The Reaping is supposed to be a holiday of sorts. Most people have at least part of the day off, and are expected to treat the day as a celebration. And for some, it is. But only after, only when they and the ones they care about are safe.  
   It's just one more cruel twist of the knife the Capitol has in our flesh. We aren't just forced to send children to butcher one another. No, we have to celebrate it.  
   The kitchen door opens and Mae appears. She glances over me with a critical eye.  
   "Shouldn't you put your hair up?" she asks, smoothing back her own grey strands. "You're 15, not 10."  
   I shrug noncommitally and reach for one of the small tesserae loaves. Mae frowns, but doesn't say anything as I bite into the dense bread.  
   "You'd best go on and get yourself to the square," she says, turning back to the stove.  
   I down the rest of the small loaf in four bites, then go to brush my teeth before heading out the front door. Once on the street, dread settles in my stomach at the site of other teens heading in the same direction as I.  
   _It could be one of them, I think._  
 _It could be me._  
   Head down, I avoid eye contact as I hurry past a group of what appear to be siblings. They don't laugh or talk as they would on any other day. It's eerie, how quiet everything is.  
   "You didn't get in trouble last night, did you?" a familiar voice whispers.  
   I glance sideways at Jael as he falls into step beside me.  
   "No," I say quietly, glancing at his little sister beside him. I don't remember her name.  
   She gives me a tentative smile and I try to smile back, not really managing it.  
   Surprisingly, Jay falls silent, not saying anything else until we reach the square.  
   "Good luck," he says, heading for the boys section.  
   I nod. "You too."  
   Jay's sister heads for the spectator area-apparently she isn't quite 12 yet.  
   Taking a deep breath, I head for the group of fifteens. The girl next to me looks ill, like she might faint or throw up. I think she's from the group home.  
   She looks up at me, fear in her eyes, and I look away.  
   Then, the anthem begins, and Licnia Sweetmeadow prances up to the microphone.  
  Licinia Sweatmeadow is a strange-looking woman-but, then again, most people from the capitol are strange-looking to down right freakish. Her skin is absurdly pale, almost white, and her hair is a pale, icy-blue, sprayed with glitter. Her outfit is varying shades of pale blue and white, coated in glitter and various sparkly objects, with platform heels that add six inches to her height. She totters along on these stilts as she climbs the steps to the Justice building. I inwardly hope that she falls flat on her face. But she doesn't. She makes it to the microphone with little difficulty and proceeds to welcome us all to the 70th Hunger Games. Licinia pauses, as if expecting applause. When none is forthcoming, she continues.  
   The Reaping begins the same as every year, the same cheesy video from the Capitol and the same reading of the Treaty of Treason, which basically just says: You tried to win independence, but you lost, so now you have to send your kids to be slaughtered. It's all boring and terrible and no one really cares what the stupid Treaty says, but still, it gives us a few more minutes to put off the inevitability of having to cough up two more kids to send off.  
   Eventually, we get to the drawing part.  
   Licinia prances over to the glass ball that holds the girls names and jams her hand in. You can practically hear the entire crowd hold it's breath as she digs around for what seems like minutes. She pulls out a slip of paper and sashays back to the microphone, plucking at the slip of paper with her hideously long nails. I hold my breath, hoping it isn't me. Why is she taking so long? Finally she gets the paper unfolded and clears her throat.  
   "Akira Burke," she chirps.  
   The crowd breathes again, but I don't. I can't make sense of it. _Akira Burke_. I seem to recall that being my name, but I don't understand what it means.  
   Licinia taps the microphone to make sure it's working.   
   "Is there an Akira Burke here?"  
   Everyone is looking around, trying to remember if they know an Akira Burke, asking where she is, _Are you Akira? Do you know Akira?_  
   My mouth is dry and I lick my lips as realization sets in.  
   _Me, it's me._  
   Swallowing hard, I force myself to move, to take one step and then another. People turn and shift, craning their necks to watch as I move forwards.  
   The same people who are going to watch me die.  
   "Ah, there you are," Licina says as I emerge from the mass. "Come on. Up here." She motions with her hand and I slowly ascend the stairs, staring straight ahead. When I reach the top, she claps. "Let's hear a round of applause for our female tribute!"  
   A pathetic excuse for applause drifts up from the crowd. Only a few people actually clap, and most of those are the racketeers, the people who organize the betting. I take in a deep breath as the shock wears off and reality sets in. But I refuse to cry. Crying would make me seem weak, an easy target. I've never been one to cry over my circumstances.  
   "Well, then," Licinia says, obviously off-set by the lack of applause. "Time to choose the male tribute." She walks over to the boy's ball, her heels clicking against the platform, and plucks a name from the top. Silence again falls as she picks at the piece of folded paper.  
   "Padraic Kopp."  
   Another collective sigh of relief from those who weren't chosen. But I notice that Mayor Kopp has gone pale beside me. A boy, closely resembling the mayor, has stepped out from the crowd and is making his way towards the platform. I recognize him from school. He's the mayor's son, a real snob.  
   Licinia orders another round of applause, and this one is even more pitiful than the last. Then Padraic and I shake hands and are whisked into the Justice Building. I am escorted to a small room and left by myself. Usually, this is the place where friends and family come to say goodbye to the kids sent off to be slaughtered. But I find myself sitting in silence, watching seconds turn to minutes. After about five minutes, I begin to wonder if anyone will come. Who would come? I have no family. Who do I consider a friend? Old Mae? Maybe Jael? Surely Mae would come. But after ten more minutes, I find myself thinking, _Who am I kidding?_ I'm a loner, always have been.  
   After who knows how long Peacekeepers come in and I am escorted to a car that already contains Padraic and Licinia. I sit beside Licinia and stare out the window. I've never been in a car before, and it's an interesting experience. Though it does smell strange  
   At the train station, we have to stand and let the hundreds of cameras capture our image. It's easier than I thought it would be. Whereas earlier, I was struggling not to cry, now all I feel is a simmering anger at being abandoned, at being reminded how truly alone I am in the world. Only two or three people that I really know, and not a one of them showed up. Fine, I don't need them.  
   I don't need anyone.


	5. Chapter 5: The Train

**WE'RE HUSTLED ONTO THE** train, which is the most elaborate and beautifully decorated place I've ever seen. I have my own room and private bathroom, which actually has a shower. Licinia tells me to do whatever I want, just to be ready for dinner in an hour.  
   I close my bedroom door and can't help but feel overcome by the knowledge that dozens of female tributes, like myself, have spent some of their final days here. Walking to the closet, I find all kinds of clothing. Dresses, shirts, pants, you name it, it's here. I decide to take a shower and strip, leaving my clothes behind on the floor as I step into the warm water.  
   It feels glorious.  
   After some time, I force myself to leave the steaming shower and head back to my room, naked and dripping. Scanning the closet, I pick out a dark green dress with a scoop neck. Then I dry my red hair and put the dress on. It comes to my knee and complements my pale complexion. Then I head to the dining car, barefoot.  
   "Well, look what the cat dragged in," Padraic remarks as I throw open the door, interrupting his bragging about how he's going to win. I stare him down, channeling the anger which hasn't yet left me.  
   "So you finally acknowledge how unattractive you are," I purr sweetly, shutting the door with my hip. The dress is doing something to me, making me feel bolder.  
   The oldest of the two male Victors holds up a hand. "Let's save the fighting for the arena."  
   I shrug and take a seat across from the younger Victor, ignoring Licinia frown. I feel both of the Victors eyeing me, assessing my strengths, weaknesses.  
   "Okay," the older man finally says, "first order of business: Do you two want to be mentored together, or separately?"  
   "Separately," Padraic and I say at the same time, then glance at each other.  
   The older victor nods and looks to the younger one. They stare at each other for a moment, as if communicating with their eyes.  
   "Flip on it?"  
   The younger nods and produces a coin. "Heads or tails?"  
   "Tails."  
   The coin is flipped and the older one asks what the score is. The younger peers at it, a look of disappointment crossing his face before he stifles it.  
   "Tails."  
   The older victor looks at Padraic. "You are mine to deal with." He extends his hand. "Ciaryn O'Conner."  
   I look to the younger guy, who is apparently my mentor. He extends his hand and I narrow my eyes as I take it. He lost the coin toss, which meant that both he and Ciaryn wanted Padraic. Not me. Which, to be honest, does sting a little.  
   "Liam Donovan," he says.  
   "Akira Burke," I reply, studying him. He has the features of a Souther, dark red hair, gold eyes. Ciaryn, however, is definitely a Norther, with red-blond hair and green eyes. I guess it fits, Norther on Norther, Souther on Souther.  
   Dinner arrives in courses. A cold melon soup with blueberries comes first, followed by roasted vegetables and rice, prime rib, and something called bread pudding for dessert. I think the bread pudding has liquor in it, but it tastes good. I'm having a little trouble keeping it down as we head to the next room to watch a recap of the reapings.  
   The tributes from One and Two are, as usual, volunteers and scary-looking. The boy from Four looks like stiff competition. Then we get to Five.  
   The announcer chuckles a bit at how long it takes me to step forward and I feel my face heat. It's obvious, even on video, how shocked I am as I walk stiffly to the podium. Padraic is definitely more eye-catching, strutting up to the stage like he owns the place, cocky as always. I make up for it at the train station though, my anger at being abandoned showing up as fiery determination next to Padraic's self-confident smile. Still, I can see why Ciaryn and Liam both wanted my fellow tribute rather than me. Story of my life.  
   "So," Liam says to Ciaryn. "You guys want to stay in here and we'll go back to the dining room?"  
   Ciaryn and Padraic both agree to this and Liam ushers me out, shutting the door behind us.  
   "Stand over there," he orders, pointing to the middle of the room. I do as he says, staring at the now-cleared table as he circles me. "Hold out your arms."  
   I comply and he takes ahold of my wrists, inspecting each arm in turn. "Not completely lacking in muscle." He drops my arms and orders me to turn. I do so and he chews on his lower lip. "You're attractive enough, though the stylist will work wonders." He tells me to sit down, taking a seat across from me.  
   "So," he begins, steepling his fingers. "What can you do?"  
   The question catches me off guard for a moment. "Do? I don't know..." I trail off. "I'm good at stealing things, only been caught once or twice." I relax in my chair. "I'm pretty decent at parkour."  
   Liam frowns. "What?"  
   I sigh. "Parkour. I can run up walls, jump from roof to roof, climb about anything. Some people call it free running, but the two are pretty different."  
   My mentor nods, recognition dawning in his eyes. "You're part of one of those gangs, aren't you?"  
   I think about that for a moment. Jael had hinted about initiating me sometime soon so I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't been Reaped, then I would have been a member of the Tracers. But I was Reaped, and I wasn't initiated.  
   "No." I shake my head.  
   Liam chews on his lip. "What else can you do?"  
   I shrug. "I'm good at salvaging things, especially metal. I can throw knives."  
   He leans back in his chair. "We've only got a few minutes until you have to turn in, so here's what I've got for you: Tone the attitude down a bit, but stay witty. We'll work on exactly what personality angle to play later. But for now; eat plenty of protein and fat, get some sleep, and drink lots of water. Got it?"  
   I nod.  
   "Good. Now go to bed."  
   I get up and head back to my bedroom, stripping to my underwear before climbing into bed. It takes a while to actually fall asleep in the strange room, constantly rocking and shifting as we speed towards the Capitol.  
   I'm awakened by Licinia pounding on my door.  
   "Wake up, wake up!" she chirps. "There's wonderful, busy day ahead and you don't want to miss any of it!"  
   I drag myself out of bed, noticing that the sun is just beginning to rise. I glare at it and yank my curtains shut, attempting to block out whatever makes the world keep turning. Every sunrise just drags me closer to my violent death in the Arena.  
   Pulling on a pair of close-fitting jeans and a loose t-shirt, I stalk out to the dining room. While downing a plate of bacon and eggs, I'm told that we will pull into the Capitol in approximately and hour, where we'll be handed off to stylists at the Remake Center. Liam and Ciaryn tell us to just roll with whatever mess they put us through and Licinia tells us to be sure and smile for the cameras.

 


	6. Chapter 6: The Opening Ceremonies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira and Padraic arrive in the Capitol and meet their prep teams.

   **THE REMAKE CENTER IS** just a fancy name for a torture chamber. That's the conclusion I've come to after three hours of being scrubbed within an inch of my life and having every piece of hair yanked off my body. But, as Liam ordered, I haven't complained.  
   My prep team consists of identical triplets, Cyrinia, Cynthia, and Cynnia. Don't ask me which is which. All three are dressed identically, in fuschia and aqua, with carot-orange curls piled on top of their heads and gold and silver facial tattoos.  
   "There," one of them, I think maybe Cyrinia, chirps as she rips out the last of my body hair. "Now stand up, darling," she pipes in her silly accent. With a sigh, I do as she says, pushing myself off of the table as the triplets circle around me, wielding tweezers and a bottle of something that stings on my raw flesh. After a few moments, the stinging stops, replaced by a cooling sensation.  
   "She almost looks pretty now, doesn't she?" one of them says. I contain a glare, instead offering them a polite smile. "Thanks to all of your hard work."  
   They all beam at me and pat me on the shoulder. "Just doing our job sweetie." Then to each other. "Julinia should be happy with this one."  
   They all file out of the room and I'm left alone and naked in the cold place. I stare at my nails, filed and polished into uniform shape and sheen. At least with the morning's annoyances, I've been able to practice being diplomatic and. . .what was the word Liam used before I was hustled from the train? Charismatic? I think that was it.  
   The door opens and in steps a woman-or at least I think it's a woman-with spiked, golden hair and skin of a matching hue.  
   "You must be Akira," she say, giving me a peck on each cheek. "Julinia. Your stylist."  
   I nod, forcing myself to refrain from wiping her kisses from my face. "Nice to meet you."  
   She smiles and proceeds to circle me, much in the way Liam did yesterday evening. Her fingers slide through my hair, which has been freshly washed and conditioned. I shift, uncomfortable at being observed so closely without clothing.  
   "Why don't you get your robe and we'll have lunch?" Julinia suggests. I wrap the material around me and follow her to a sitting room.  
   "So, Akira," Julinia says after the meal is over, "I've been thinking about your outfit for the chariot ride." She takes a sip from her mug. "As you know, it's supposed to reflect on your district. District Five produces power, so I was think about the different angles."  
   "Angles?" I cross my arms and lean back. "Such as?"  
   She smiles. "Who has power?"  
   I frown. "President Snow? The Capitol?"  
   Another gracious smile. "No dearie, I was think about kings and queens, like in the old days."  
   "Hmm." I watch as an Avox clears the table.  
   "Specifically, the old days of the Roman empire. Long, flowing robes of linen. Gold jewelry, leather sandals. The wealth, the glory, the simplistic yet extravagant lifestyle. Almost like today. But we don't have kings and queens today." Julinia beams. "You will be the embodiment of power, a symbol of Roman royalty. Stunning, elegant, and yet, unforgivingly merciless."  
   I stare at her, trying to conjure up an image in my head. I've got nothing.  
   But a few hours later, I understand what she means. I'm standing in front of the mirror, staring at someone who couldn't be me. She is everything Julinia described and more. I turn, studying myself. The flowing white tunic with the golden breastplate that barely covers my chest. The golden bracelets and anklets, golden bands around my upper arms. My cheekbones are highlighted with golden powder and my eyes lined with jet black stripes. My hair is piled on top of my head and spills down in a cascade of soft curls. Golden earings, sandals, a large golden necklace, and a crown complete the look.  
   "You look gorgeous," one of the triplets gushes.  
   "Of course she does," says Julinia with a dismissive wave. "Now downstairs with you."  
   I'm ushered downstairs to the stables, where I encounter Padraic, who's similarly dressed. His tunic only covers him from the waist down to his knees though. Turning away, I grimace. I could go a lifetime without seeing _that_ much of him. Liam notices my expression and gives me a look.  
   "You two need to at least act like you can stand each other," he snaps. "You're from the same District for pity's sake, you really think fighting each other is going to get you more sponsors? 'Cause I can tell you right now that isn't going to do it!" He rubs a hand over his face. "Look, I don't care how you act in private. But you've got to play the game, be a part of the show. Got it?"  
   We don't respond and Ciaryn speaks up. "He's right. It doesn't matter how you feel about each other. How you present your loyalty to your district is going to influence sponsors."  
   I sigh. "Fine, but we are not pretending that we're best friends."  
   The stylists push us up onto the chariot, adjusting our outfits, positions, and hair. I brush a curl out of my face as the music starts up. District One is up first, pulled by a team of white horses and covered in so many precious metals and gems that every movement throws shimmers of light. One produces luxury items for the Capitol and their tributes are always favorites. You can hear it in the way the crowd goes wild as they appear.  
   District Two, another favorite, is up next, painted to look like various types of marble and granite. Three's costumes are rather drab, but then again, what can you do with what's related to factories? Four, the other third of the Careers, looks like two merpeople, lot's of green and blue. Then it's us.  
   I hold my breath, gripping the side of the chariot as we pull up to the doors. I can hear the crowd outside, screaming, cheering, and clapping. My pulse pounds so hard that I feel it in my face. And then we are out, the cheering crowd around us on all sides. I turn, taking in the masses of people, many of them looking at me and...cheering. They're _cheering_. For _me_.  
   The nervousness evaporates and I put on a smile, waving to the crowd. They cheer even louder and I let go of the chariot, waving with both hands. Someone throws me a flower. I catch it, place a kiss on the petals, and toss it back to the giver. More people throw me flowers, wanting me to kiss them. My breath catches in my throat and I forget for a moment why I'm here. These people like me; to them I am someone important. They're throwing flowers in the hope that I'll give them back with a kiss for pity's sake!  
   Someone cheers my name, having bothered to find it on the program, and I turn and blow a kiss in that direction. I think I see someone actually faint.  
   I catch sight of us on a screen. We look stunning, beautiful really. Regal.  
   The chariots stop in front of the president's mansion and Coriolanus Snow himself comes out to greet us. My smile fades somewhat at the sight of the smallish man, but I check myself in time to turn it into an awed look. Snow gives a speech that lasts too long. He finally wraps it up by thanking us for our courage and our sacrifice and only then I remember why I'm here. Not to model pretty dresses and be all dolled up by freakish sycophants, but to die a violent, bloody, and thoroughly entertaining death for the amusement of the Capitol. Glancing up at the screen, I notice that my expression has turned back to a fierce determination. Then the camera pans out as the chariots start moving again, carrying us to the Tribute Center.  
   At the Tribute Center, we get to ride on an elevator, an entirely new experience for me. I grip the railing as the small room suddenly starts moving up. The doors open on the fifth floor.  
  "Each District has their own floor?" I ask Licinia. She nods and says something else, but I don't notice. I'm too busy staring at the grandeur all around me, the gorgeous furniture and curtains, the modern art sculptures. I walk over to the window and look out at the city, ablaze with lights of every color.  
   "It's like the Northside times one hundred," I whisper in awe.  
   Behind be, Padraic snorts. "What, you've never seen electric light?"  
   I grit my teeth, biting back a scathing reply.   
   "Come, Akira, and see your room."  
   I turn and follow Licinia to my quarters, which are just a lavish and beautiful as the foyer. The bed feels like it's stuffed with clouds it's so soft, and my feet sink into the plush carpeting that muffles every footstep. The closet is enormous, containing more outfits than I could possibly wear in a lifetime. Soft music drifts through the room and I wonder aloud where it comes from. To my surprise, the window lights up and a reply appears in large letters.  
 **The Music comes from speakers placed throughout the room. Would you prefer to change genres?**  
   I take a step closer. "No, this is fine. What is a genre?"  
  **A genre is a type of music. The genre currently playing is Classical.**  
   I shrug. "Okay, thanks." And the window goes back to normal. Peeling my costume off, I head to the bathroom to take a shower, where I am confronted by a confusing array of buttons. I randomly poke at them until I'm standing under a warm spray, watching gold dust swirl down the drain. Then I hit the wrong button and end up being sprayed with a jet of fruity suds. I'm choking and sputtering and trying to get it to stop when I slip and whack my elbow. Muttering profanities, I sock the control panel with my fist until the suds stop. Unfortunately, the water then turns icy cold and disco music starts playing, complete with blinking, multicolored lights. I scream in frustration and jab at the buttons until the water is a normal temperature. I never figure out how to get the disco show to stop, so it continues until I turn the shower off.   
   "What is wrong with these people," I demand of the wall as I step out of the shower. A current of warm air blasts me from all sides, drying me and detangling my hair.  
   Well, I guess the Capitol does have it's upsides.  
   Thus placated, I stalk to the closet and program it for a simple pair of brown pants and a tan shirt. Then I look at the menu, something called ice cream catches my eye and I order a bowl of the stuff, flavored vanilla. When it arrives, I take a tentative taste, then moan in pleasure. I'm halfway finished when Licinia calls me to dinner. I pick up the bowl of ice cream and head to the dining room, finding the stylists there.  
   "Already starting on dessert?" Julinia raises her eyebrows.  
   I nod and take another bite, turning to Padraic. "You'll have to try some. It's called ice cream."  
   He scoffs. "Yeah, I know what is. What cave have you been living in?"  
   I scowl, placing my bowl on the table. "You know, not all of us can be the mayor's son; pampered and babied our whole lives."  
   His gaze turns angry. "Better than growing up a street rat, the parentless, unwanted trash of the district."  
   I press my lips into a firm line, focusing on my food. "I'm not parentless, you arrogant git."  
   "Oh yeah?" he taunts. "Then where are your precious mommy and daddy, hmm? I bet they took one look at you when you were born and handed you off to the state. Isn't that what happened? Own parents didn't want you?"  
   My gaze lifts to his, my hand stilling as our eyes lock.  
   Something snaps in me and I'm on top of him, knocking him to the floor and screaming at him.  
   He had no right, _no right_.  
   Hands grab me, pulling me back, but I fight them. It takes both mentors to pull me off of Padraic and hold me down on the floor as the stylists and Licina stare wide-eyed at the scene.  
   "Let go of me!" I scream at Liam, who's holding my upper body. My chest heaves and my pulse pounds in my ears. Licinia is checking on Padraic, who's sitting up and rubbing his neck where I had him in a chokehold.  
   "They would have never given me up!" I yell at him. "They died!" I writhe, trying to tear free of Liam's grasp. But he's strong, and with my anger fading, so is my strength. I lay back, staring first at the ceiling, then at Liam as my anger ebbs. His expression is hard. I've disappointed him. But then I think, so what? He never wanted me in the first place, he wanted that cur, Padraic.   
   I squeeze my eyes shut. "I'm fine, I won't hurt him. Let me up."  
   A moment of hesitation, then Liam releases me, only to latch onto my arm and drag me from the room.


	7. Chapter 7: The Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam has a heart-to-heart with Akira.

  **LIAM DRAGS ME INTO** his room, locking the door behind us.  
   "Let go of me," I protest.  
   He releases my arm, then grabs my face between his hands. I flinch, uncomfortable with being manhandled.  
   "Listen to me," he says firmly. "You are going to have to learn to get control of yourself."  
   I open my mouth but he cuts me off.  
   "He deserved it: Yes. But you're in the Hunger Games; you're going to have to deal with a lot worse than Padraic-without letting it get to you."  
   Grabbing his wrists, I pry my face away.  
   "I didn't ask for this," I spit.  
   Liam laughs bitterly, turning to the window. "You think I did? You think any of us did?" He glances back at me, lips twisted. "You're theirs now; a part of their Game."  
   Ever fiber in me rebels, denying the truth. They don't own me. It doesn't matter that they could order my death on a whim, wipe out my entire District with an order, like they did to 13.  
   "You need to decide," Liam says, more calmly this time, "whether you're going to play or not."  
   I scoff at the apparent stupidity of his statement. "I don't want to die."  
   And once I say it, I realize how true it is. I'm scared. Terrified. I could be dead within a matter of days.  
   Liam turns, angling his body towards me. "You'll never get anywhere playing not to die. That's not how the Games work." He leans forward, inches away from my face. "You have to play to win. Or not play at all."  
   I look away, unable to hold his unforgiving gaze.  
   I don't want this. I don't want to become a fixture of their morbid show; dressed up, acting for the cameras. But what is the alternative? Death.  
   Two impossible choices.  
   "If you decide to play, then you have to do everything I say." Liam leans back, out of my personal space. "I'll give you until tomorrow morning to decide."  
   He opens the door and stands there. I stare at him for a moment before realizing that he's holding it open for me.  
   "No fighting with the Tributes," he mutters under his breath as we head back to the dining room. "It's illegal."  
   I round the corner, immediately spotting Padraic's smug smirk. Staring him down, I take my seat across from Licinia and pick up my knife. His expression flickers, darting down to the utensil in my hand and I feel a rush of something. Satisfaction? Victory? All I know is that, for the first time in my life, I feel genuine hate for another human being.  
   Dinner is an awkward affair. Licinia tries to get a conversation going with Julinia about our costumes, but ends up just pushing food around on her plate and downing multiple glasses of wine, constantly refilled by the Avoxes. I finish my food and leave the table without dallying.  
   Later, lying in bed, I mull over Liam's words.  
   Playing not to die...  
   Or playing to win...  
   I don't want to become a puppet of the Capitol, pretending to be something I'm not as every bit of myself is smothered and covered in makeup and fancy clothing.   
   But, in the end, I'm human.  
   And I want to live.


End file.
